


Dean Winchester And Castiel's Shirt

by LiberAmans214



Series: Drabbles Of a Destiel Universe [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, And Castiel LOVES him very much for it, Castiel Has Feelings for Dean Winchester, Castiel Has a Crush on Dean Winchester, Castiel and Dean Winchester in Love, Dean Winchester Has a Crush on Castiel, Dean and Cas sleeping together, Dean in Castiel's Clothes, Domestic Fluff, Established Castiel/Dean Winchester, Fluff and Mush, It's just sweet is all, M/M, Plans For The Future, Soft Dean Winchester, and short, dean is a dork
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-08
Updated: 2019-11-08
Packaged: 2021-01-25 11:56:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,329
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21355879
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LiberAmans214/pseuds/LiberAmans214
Summary: Dean wakes up in the middle of the night, cold. He doesn't want to wake Castiel up, so he goes on a hunt for some layers himself. And well, as they say, if a man wishes hard enough, he'll find his boyfriend's shirt hanging at the back of a chair, quickly enough.But looking in the mirror, at himself wearing Castiel's clothes, he can't help but think about thefuture.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Series: Drabbles Of a Destiel Universe [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1539550
Comments: 3
Kudos: 127





	Dean Winchester And Castiel's Shirt

**Author's Note:**

> Here. *offers* Have some fluff, you deserve it.

Dean has no idea why he wakes up, when he does. But he finds himself blinking himself awake - at four hours past midnight, and four hours to morning, a long look at the clock tells him.

Still groggy, he decides that it couldn't have been the fact that he wasn't in his own bed. Not when he was in _Castiel's_ bed, with the man himself wrapped around him - familiar scruff and soft lips ghosting over the back of his neck, and making his skin tingle, and the warm, and grounding weight of a hand slung around his middle, as though Cas were refusing to let him more than inches away, even in his sleep.

_All_ of it, from the sweet smell of honey, nowhere in particular but emanating from everywhere at the same time - and the bed dipping to glove them further together on the large white space, Dean feels nothing if not _comfortable_.

But as the sleep-weary cogs in his brain begin to click, an involuntary shudder ran up his spine, too _harsh_ for Cas's simple closeness to have caused.

He's cold.

Consequently, Dean plucks himself from Castiel's embrace, already feeling strange as they separate, but proceeds to shuffle along the sheets, cautious to not make a _shred_ of noise, till he's planted his bare feet on the soft, carpeted floor - and then he yawns, and stretches, and realizes he's _very_ cold.

He steals a glance behind him, at the simply beautiful man he'd been asleep in the arms of. Cas's eyes are thankfully still closed, his face for once not crinkled into either frown or smile, and his right leg is all up in Dean's space - one hand folded in the cove between their pillow, and the other lying limp in the spot Dean vacated.

It makes for a truly inviting picture, and Dean has to resist the urge to simply jump back, as it were - maybe push a little more towards him for warmth, maybe receive a tighter cuddle in response.

But Cas's nightshirt, rumpled but present nonetheless, pointedly reminds him of the absence of his own. Dean has always been used to sleeping with either just his boxers on, or naked, but then he's not always lived in fucking _Maine_.

So, he fights his own heart, and drudges across the room to look for his clothes - in a vague kind of hurry. He doesn't immediately find his shirt, though it should definitely _be_ there - but the moment his eyes fall on the plaid bundle in the corner of the room - he remembers exactly why it had been disposed of, in this manner. To be precise, his bleary brain is struck with a string of clear, tantalizing memories of just the previous night - only a few hours ago, and how Dean's shirt had had to be sacrificed in the excited hurry to be done with the cleaning up, and get resettled in the orgasm-wrung pleasure, slot against each other in a more tender way this time.

But once the _first_ stream of scenes playing in his head subside, so do the hints of arousal, and sense returns. He can't possibly be chubbing up when the rest of him is freezing, so he tries to not think about that anymore, and renews his hunt for clothes - the sooner he finds something, the sooner he'd be able to return to bed.

And _well_, as they say, if a man wishes hard enough, he'll find his boyfriend's shirt hanging at the back of a chair, quickly enough. Dean runs his gaze over the soft, thick blue fabric once, which is thankfully free of any come, and begins to put it on thoughtlessly.

With one hand through the sleeve, it suddenly dawns upon him, that this is _Cas's._

When he's got both his arms in, he realizes that he's actually wearing it. He's in something, which was on Castiel, and it feels soft, and warm.

When he rights the collar, and begins to do the buttons in a vaguely excited emotion - the information seems to settle. It weighs light, like Cas's shirt on his shoulders - and it weighs warm. There's a slight stretch, and a moment of involuntary joy at the strange evidence of him being wider than Cas, up there, but soon realizes he's done the buttons wrong - and then there's the way it hugs him down low, and it is all just -

Dean doesn't know when he's walked up to the mirror, hung on the adjacent wall. But a single look at it, stuns him.

In a single beat, he's imagined more about _Cas and him_ than he's let himself wonder, in all their weeks of being together. In that moment, he sees them sharing shirts more often, sharing closets even - moving in _together_. He sees Cas in his favorite, most worn ones - and he sees himself in Cas's stupid ties, perhaps for when he has those job interviews, when he graduates. He sees himself teasing Cas as he wears his tie just right, and he sees Cas rolling his eyes at him as he pulls it astray. Somehow, he sees them sharing even more, even far ahead - and then suddenly, in his mind, he's dropping Cas off to work and Cas is paying for the groceries, and he's holding out a cooled spatula for Cas to lick, and Cas is leaning in and _altogether_ like a kick to the back of his knees, he sees them sharing their vows way ahead of the ceremony to make sure they don't have any repeating lines, and they're shading their rather distinct opinions on bedroom curtains, and -

"Dean?"

Dean turns in a shocking speed, blinking hazily at the mess of a man pawing at the sheets - apparently still hunting for Dean in them. "_Cas_."

"Oh, that's -" Cas pauses. He looks like he wants to say something about the shirt Dean has on - and Dean squirms at the picture he makes, with Cas's formal shirt fully buttoned over nothing at all below, looking utterly dazzled for no reason at all. But then Cas doesn't say anything about the shirt at all. "Come back?" He asks.

"Wait." Dean fidgets, and does a quick check of the room. He finds Cas's pants on the armchair. "I'll just -"

"Dean." Cas persists, in a voice which is rough and sleep-addled, yet sounds gorgeous to him. "_C'mere_."

"I, uh, _am_." Dean stammers, still out of it. "It's a little cold, and I'm -" He turns to look Cas in the eye; with a wide, moved look, midway to stepping into Cas's boxers.

"Oh." Cas says, for a second time.

"Nevermind." Dean shucks them away, the fight in him against the cold abandoned for Cas, and starts towards the bed, when Cas stops him.

"You know what?" He interrupts Dean. "Put those on. Maybe, uh. _Just those_." Dean looks down at the floor, and once again, only _now_ realizes that he'd been about to get in Cas's underwear. "And then come here?"

Dean blinks at him. Wondering how he was ever going to deal with the stupidly ridiculous extent of his feelings for him - as were just pronounced by the momentary lapse of restraint, brought about by the shockingly pretty imagery of him in Cas's clothes.

"I promise I won't even hog the blankets this time." Cas says, gently, as if he knows he's breaking Dean's reverie as he does.

"As long as you spoon me well enough, _I_ promise to not note the difference." Dean says, finally finding his voice in the teasing tone he uses, as he pulls the boxers up - they're plain, and grey and fit pretty great - and finally joins Cas in bed again.

"I strive to do my best." Cas smiles, slow and loving, his lips pressed more firmly along the line of thd collar - and pulls Dean closer, and Dean feels the tension fade eventually - as sleep brings with it only the bliss of the realization that he might be in love.

***


End file.
